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A Mellow Clinton at Ease in His Role

President Clinton's friends and associates marveled for years at the zest with which he delved into the minutiae of policy and the latest blips of opinion polls. Now, major figures in Government say they are struck by the degree that Mr. Clinton drifts into soliloquies about another longtime passion, golf.

That Mr. Clinton's restless, voracious mind is wandering to the golf course is cited by some of his closest associates as a small yet telling example of how the Presidency is not engaging him in the way it did during his first term.

In dozens of interviews, some of Mr. Clinton's closest friends and advisers inside and outside the White House, as well as authorities on Presidential politics, agreed: Even with three years remaining, there was a conspicuous sense that Mr. Clinton is no longer consumed by big ideas and the prospect of major battles ahead. Liberals and moderates alike described Mr. Clinton as trapped in a risk-averse, aimless Administration of his own making.

Yet the portrait of a listless, distracted Chief Executive conceals a more complex reality. Mr. Clinton is far more in command and comfortable in his role. With more than 30 years of elections behind him, Mr. Clinton also believes that many of his goals have been achieved, and he is less urgent and more mindful of the realities of divided Government.

In an interview with The New York Times late this week, Mr. Clinton countered his critics by previewing what he described as an ambitious agenda for the next three years on matters ranging from education to health care to the environment to foreign policy. If the policy question is ''a big issue,'' he said, ''I'm just as involved as I ever was.''[Excerpts, page 26.]

The President conceded that anyone in his job would be captive to the times. ''Presidents are the custodians of the time in which they live as well as the instruments of the visions and dreams they have,'' Mr. Clinton said, sitting beneath a portrait of George Washington in the Oval Office. ''So the first thing I had to start with was, you know, we don't have a war, we don't have a depression, we don't have a cold war.

''But,'' he went on, ''what we do have is a breathtaking change going on as the economy and the societies in which we live become more globalized, as the information technology revolution continues to accelerate and as the world faces a whole new set of security threats as well as opportunities.''

Others in Mr. Clinton's circle describe something of a second Eisenhower era, an era of economic good times and don't-rock-the-boat domestic policy. Indeed, Mr. Clinton has been frequently indulging in bouts of syrupy nostalgia and has slowed the pace of his day to allow more time for reflection -- whether on weighty matters or on golf.

''It's golf, golf, golf -- interspersed with politics,'' said Senator John B. Breaux, a Louisiana Democrat. Referring to the President's change in focus, he said, ''He realizes you can't do everything at once; he's willing to accept smaller, incremental victories.''

Further blurring his focus, Mr. Clinton is distracted by a flood of accusations about fund-raising abuses in his last campaign that are certain to dog him for the remainder of his tenure. As an added complication, Mr. Clinton finds himself spending a substantial amount of time traveling to fund-raisers to help pay off the Democratic Party's huge debts.

Another new reality for Mr. Clinton is that he is surrounded by a restless staff of aides who have either grown bored with their jobs or have been at the White House for far shorter tenures than the President. Some of his associates described a cautious White House where there are fewer sharp ideological debates than in the first term.

''He has a great deal of political capital -- there's no point in hoarding it until it's too late to use it,'' said Robert B. Reich, the former Labor Secretary and friend of Mr. Clinton's for nearly 30 years. Dick Morris, the architect of Mr. Clinton's re-election campaign last year, has been more critical of the President since he resigned in August 1996 in a scandal involving his relationship with a prostitute. ''Everybody wondered after the election whether he'd go to the left or to the right,'' Mr. Morris said. ''Nobody thought he'd go to sleep.''

Asked why several people described a sense of aimlessness in the White House, Mr. Clinton shrugged and said, ''Beats me,'' and recited a list of accomplishments this year, including the balanced budget agreement, an increase in education aid, reforms at the Food and Drug Administration and the proposed expansion of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization.

Returning to the original question about people portraying him as aimless, Mr. Clinton said: ''I can't answer that. I honestly don't know why that is. But all I can tell you is I'll do the very best I can to disabuse them of it every day I'm here.''

A Fourth Term

A String of Goals, But No Single Priority

Aimless or not, there is wide agreement that Mr. Clinton is embarking on a new, uncharted stage of his Presidency, one that some Democrats described as a fourth term because the past five years can be divided into distinct periods: the shakedown cruise of 1993-94 in which the White House swerved from crisis to crisis, culminating in the collapse of the President's ambitious health care proposal and the Republican takeover of Congress; the starkly partisan confrontation over the budget in the next two years, and Mr. Clinton's political recovery and cooperation with the Republican-controlled Congress in 1996 and 1997.

Mr. Clinton is still devising an approach for this new fourth term. Aides said the President was constructing a new definition of the term ''social security,'' by trying to stitch together a variety of medium-sized policies aimed at families into one big thought.

Glancing at notes he had jotted down, Mr. Clinton said in the interview that ''there will be a lot to do'' -- and spoke of several goals for the next three years.

Mr. Clinton first cited education, saying he would continue to push for national standards in testing, the rebuilding of schools and technology for schools. He then moved on to describing ways to improve family life, like ''broader family leave'' measures, efforts to expand health care coverage, extend the Social Security system and improve race relations. He also previewed an agenda on the environment, food safety, biomedical research and a ''huge foreign policy agenda'' designed to ''create a global system where the democracies of the world are cooperating more with shared markets.''

Prospects for some items on the President's plate, like education reform, could be threatened by partisan contention on Capitol Hill. Others may not be easily achievable; restructuring Social Security, for example, could be a 10-year project. But other measures might be more popular on Capitol Hill, including family leave proposals and biomedical research.

In some areas, like food safety, Mr. Clinton could act through regulatory means. He might have a harder time on his ambitious foreign policy goals like bringing peace to Bosnia and improving relations with China.

Mr. Clinton did not cite any single issue as his overriding priority for the next three years. And one after another, White House advisers shrugged rather than even try to surmise how the second Clinton term would be remembered.

Asked for the biggest issue Mr. Clinton would tackle next year, Robert Squier, a veteran media consultant who attends regular political meetings with the President, replied: ''I honestly don't know. I'm not sure he does either.''

Robert S. Strauss, an elder statesman in the Democratic Party who advises Mr. Clinton from time to time, said: ''I think he's got a lot of problems ahead. Within and without the White House he's not long in talent around him. Everybody's going to want to take a shot at him in the next election. With two years to go, why not pile on? But he's not going to be an easy mark; this guy's smart and he's tough.''

Vice President Al Gore, when asked aboard Air Force Two late one night recently to comment on the state of the Clinton Presidency, did not have to be reminded of the outpouring of criticism recently that Mr. Clinton had already become a lame duck. Mocking such talk, he flapped his arms and squawked, ''Quack, quack, quack.''

Mr. Gore then returned to his cabin to contemplate the question. Several minutes later, just after the plane landed at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland, an aide returned with Mr. Gore's hand-written response: ''I remember when some columnists and pundits decided in late 1994 that the President might no longer be 'relevant.' They even asked him at a press conference whether he thought he had any remaining relevance. Less than a year later he had single-handedly forced both houses of Congress to back down and re-open the Government -- twice -- abandon most of their 'Contract With America,' and instead adopt virtually all of his priority measures.

''Anyone,'' Mr. Gore continued, ''who decides in late 1997 that the President's 'relevance' is in any doubt is making the same silly mistake all over again.''

Still, there is a palpable sense, even among some of the President's closest aides, that Mr. Clinton is searching for his proper role. One aide explained that a sleepy Administration was inevitable. He said Presidents and their lieutenants function best in crises. (The tensions with Iraq did, briefly, force Mr. Clinton into a mode of high alert.)

''What you have over there are wartime generals,'' the aide said, pointing to the West Wing, ''not peacetime generals.''

Perhaps the best gauge of the mellower tone is in the transformation of the meetings that take place in the Yellow Oval Room of the White House residence. In the two years leading up to the 1996 election, the meetings were the nerve center of the Clinton White House, where the President and his advisers plotted campaign strategy and, by extension, virtually every important policy move.

But those free-wheeling, hours-long sessions are history. While they still occur, they are no longer every week, they usually do not last more than an hour, and they have largely lost their luster without a campaign or a burning issue to galvanize the staff, several aides said.

''Most people don't find it useful,'' said one of the regulars, who spoke on the condition of anonymity. ''It's more of a sentimental journey for the President.''

Some Presidential advisers expressed concern that, at least in public perception, Mr. Clinton is becoming the kind of ''in-box President'' he accused George Bush of being in the 1992 campaign. ''They have nothing to say to America,'' Governor Bill Clinton of Arkansas said in July 1992. ''Nothing to be for. No record to run on. No vision of the future.''

''He has the misfortune of coming to the Presidency at the time of limitation on the Federal role,'' said Senator Thomas A. Daschle of South Dakota, the Democratic leader. ''Given the limitations on his budgetary and policy-making scope, it's unlikely that you'll see anything of a magnitude of a Lyndon Johnson or a Franklin Roosevelt or a Woodrow Wilson.''

Mr. Clinton may have less incentive to offer big initiatives because his approval rating in most polls has remained rock steady at around 60 percent -- an impressive level for any President. (In the first two years of his second term, Ronald Reagan's approval ratings were similar, until the fall of 1986, when his popularity began to slide after disclosure of the Iran-contra affair.)

Nor does there seem to be a great outcry from Americans for Mr. Clinton to intervene either more often or more forcefully in matters that affect their lives.

''You don't need 500 balls in the air,'' said Mark Mellman, a Democratic pollster who is close to the White House. ''As far as the public is concerned, there aren't that many big things that need to be done.''

''There's just a kind of frittering quality to his leadership,'' said Fred Greenstein, a historian at Princeton University and an authority on the Presidency. ''There is a lack of sustained focus and willingness to narrow on some things and really get behind them.''

Mr. Clinton is not helped by the fact that many of his closest aides have departed. Many other advisers -- most notably, Erskine B. Bowles, the chief of staff -- have talked openly for months about leaving.

The departure of such hard-edged, liberal aides as Harold M. Ickes and the politically ambidextrous consultant Mr. Morris has substantially changed the tone and volume of debate.

''The ideological battle is over,'' said Rahm Emanuel, a senior Presidential adviser. ''There is no doubt he is a New Democrat. You still have policy debates. But there are no ideological debates.''

Mr. Bowles imposed a discipline that was lacking in the early years of the Clinton Presidency, which has led to a more temperate intellectual climate. The atmosphere is corporate, one aide noted, more mature but less invigorating.

''I call them the 'beige bunch,' one current senior White House aide said, speaking on condition of anonymity, of the current team running the White House. ''The chief of staff sets the tone and we all follow.''

Despite the President's ''social security'' idea, Mr. Reich, the former Labor Secretary, said an excess of caution has seized the President when he could be proposing ambitious programs to address the anxiety of workers left behind by the booming technology-driven economy. He said he could understand Mr. Clinton's reluctance during the 1996 campaign to talk about society's losers. But he said the balanced budget and full employment presented Mr. Clinton with an opportunity to make significant strides in domestic economic policy.

Yet, Mr. Reich said, the ''good news only'' mindset of 1996 seems to still dominate White House thinking. ''You now have a balanced budget that may even be in surplus and you have a legacy that up to now is primarily a Republican one,'' he said, ''in the sense that it achieved some long-term Republican goals -- balancing the budget, getting rid of welfare, cutting capital gains taxes and widening global trade.''

Mr. Reich represents a frustration from the left of the party; plenty of Americans, no doubt, are not as eager to see the President embark on some of those initiatives.

Still, noting that Japan is weakened economically and the United States is indisputably number one, Mr. Reich said, ''If there was ever a time to get on with the larger agenda, it is precisely now.''

The Comfort Level

Quicker Decisions, And Ease With Power

The criticism of President Clinton doing too little could not be more different from when he began the Presidency and, as he himself has acknowledged, tried to do too much. His aides used to say that Mr. Clinton was plagued by a ''paralysis of analysis.''

The scene in the Oval Office was familiar: An undisciplined President who always seemed surrounded by aides, discussing and debating issues far longer than many thought was necessary. These days, it is more typical to find the President alone in his office, reading or talking on the phone. He usually begins his day between 8:30 and 9 A.M., later than in the heat of the campaign.

The President said he had grown more at ease in reaching decisions and handing tasks to aides. Unlike the 1995 budget negotiations, when Mr. Clinton attended dozens of meetings with lawmakers, he was rarely present in the budget meetings this summer, preferring to send Mr. Bowles and other emissaries.

''I might make more decisions based on a detailed memo without a long meeting than I would have otherwise,'' Mr. Clinton said. ''If it's something where I have a higher comfort level and we've got a clear course established.''

His friends and associates described Mr. Clinton as a leader who has internalized the office in a way he could not early on. ''He doesn't think it is at all odd that when he walks in a room everyone stands up or when he's driven down the street there are 40 men with guns and there are helicopters,'' said one of Mr. Clinton's senior aides. ''None of even his oldest friends feels it is odd to call him 'Mr. President' any more.''

Vice President Gore also described a new comfort level. ''He started out as a good President; he has become a great President,'' he said. ''Difficult decisions that required much time in the early part of his first term are now made quickly and correctly -- seemingly with little effort or angst.''

As an example, aides recalled that Mr. Bowles confronted Mr. Clinton about making a decision on Speaker Newt Gingrich's offer to help salvage a vote in the House on expanding Presidential trade authority if Mr. Clinton would give in on restricting international support for abortions.

''We were in the Blue Room and Erskine walked up to him and said, 'Mr. President, I have to go in and see the Speaker and I have to give him an answer,' '' a White House aide said. ''Clinton turned right back and said: 'Erskine, I can't do that. This is principle.' Erskine sagged visibly. He sat down and said, 'Mr. President, you realize that could be the end of fast track.' He said, 'Erskine, I can't give you that.' Erskine said, 'Yes, sir.' ''

Describing the incident, the aide said: ''I was astonished. In the past, there would have been first an explosion at Newt or the Democrats and/or the staff. He would have said, 'How can I make a decision at 11:20 at night?' ''

Mr. Clinton's defeat this year on the fast-track legislation, largely at the hands of members of Congress from his own party, was interpreted as an omen of difficulties that might await his future initiatives.

Richard W. Riley, the Education Secretary who is also an old friend of Mr. Clinton, said, ''He seems like he's more wise in a lot of ways. He's not in such a hurry physically. He wants to stop and think things out.''

Wiser, perhaps. But Walter Dean Burnham, a Government professor at the University of Texas at Austin, said that from the outside Mr. Clinton's appears to be a passive, ''finger-in-the-dike Presidency'' in which his mission is ''to prevent the Republicans from going all the way with their agenda.''

Mr. Burnham warned that ''it's easy to underestimate a President because he's still got a lot of power.'' But, he added, ''I don't think he has a very clear idea of where he wants to go from here.''

The Sentimental Side

Looking at the End Of a Political Life

The President's well-known sentimentalism has lately turned inward as he looks at the changes in his personal life and the approaching end of his political career. At his 50th birthday celebration in 1996, he mused that he had seen ''more yesterdays than tomorrows.'' That is now true of his Presidency as well, and it seems to weigh on him at times.

Mr. Clinton is showing the physical signs of aging as well. His knee injury earlier this year was a reminder of the frailty of the human body and, far more than most people realized, it cramped his style. For two weeks, he was unable to leave the residence, even to cover the short distance to the Oval Office. His recovery -- which took three to four months -- appears to have made him more determined than ever to enjoy his time on the golf course and other physical activities.

This fall, the President was fitted with hearing aids in both ears, the result, doctors and staff said, of years of exposure to loud music and raucous crowds. During the 30-minute interview, Mr. Clinton fiddled several times with the hearing aid in his right ear. (He said ''it works superbly,'' and explained, ''The rule is you have to just keep pushing it in.'')

Contributing to Mr. Clinton's spreading wistfulness was the departure this fall of his daughter, Chelsea, for Stanford University. He occasionally mentions it in speeches, particularly those to small gatherings late in the evening. At a recent Democratic dinner in Philadelphia, for instance, the President admitted to ''feeling rather nostalgic lately,'' citing his 22d wedding anniversary and the difficulties with coping with the luxuriously appointed but childless nest that the White House has become for Mrs. Clinton and him. To keep them company, the Clintons are acquiring a Labrador retriever, the White House said this week.

While none among the White House staff will dare discuss Mr. Clinton's post-White House plans, he is clearly thinking about it. He participated in the dedication of the George Bush Presidential Library in College Station, Tex., last month and remarked on its grandeur with some envy. ''I don't have as much land,'' joked Mr. Clinton, who has started unusually early to check out sites for the Clinton library in Little Rock.

Yet more than anything else, some prominent Democrats said they were surprised by Mr. Clinton's longing for the golf course.

''It's amazing to me,'' said Senator Daschle. ''He can pour out data about a golf course like he can about polls and voting turnouts in precincts and county elections. He regales us, with some frequency, with stories of being out on the golf course and hitting this incredible drive. With a remarkable clarity, you can picture what it was he was doing, how he was doing it, what he was wearing.''

Mr. Clinton laughed off the notion of golf as a preoccupation. ''It's not fair to say I'm obsessed with it,'' he said.

But he became unusually animated when the subject came up. ''When I talk about it, it's just a way I get away from it,'' the President said. ''If I were really serious about it, I'd have a lower handicap and a different approach. It's a lot of fun for me. It relieves the pressure of the job.''